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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27530023">closing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/4wholecats/pseuds/4wholecats'>4wholecats</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [17]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Shin Ankoku Ryuu to Hikari no Ken | Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Violence, Claustrophobia, Gen, Panic Attacks, Prompt: Panic Attacks/Phobias, Takes place before SOV, Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 06:34:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27530023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/4wholecats/pseuds/4wholecats</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The cage is exactly what it’s name implies, a iron-barred box, small enough to prevent even an average sized man from standing within. An animal kennel, fitted for enemy soldiers. Had they constructed this for him specifically, or has this prison held many a criminal in the past?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [17]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959316</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>closing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is the second prompt that has involved me sending camus to jail. dude cant catch a break.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The holding cell is small, barely large enough for the nameless stranger to lay down in. He curls in on himself, both to keep warm, as well as to keep his head out of reach of passing guards. The men were of a cruel sort, and after getting his hair pulled one two many times, the stranger retreated to the back of the cell. Well… back was a strong word… but every inch between himself and the sneering men made a difference.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s angry the first day. They won’t tell him why he’s been imprisoned, electing to instead torment him with insults and jabs with the blunt ends of their spears as they pass. They won’t feed him unless he begs for it, they say, so the nameless stranger bites his tongue in defiance. He’s not starving, at least not yet. The day passes with idle tortures; annoyances and cruelties that are small on their own, but snowball more and more quickly with every passing hour. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They begin to leave him alone, as the light coming from the small window starts to dim. They exit the dungeon and are replaced by a scarce number of guards, all of whom are quieter. The closest one dozes at a nearby table, paying no attention to the prisoners whatsoever. Well… prisoner. The stranger can hear the shifting and mumbling of others, further down the hall, but this little block of cells seems to be empty, aside from himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The candle on the guard’s desk begins to dwindle down to it’s stump, and the dungeon grows dimmer and dimmer as the night drags on. The stranger, despite the cold floor and his aching back, finds himself pulled under a blanket of sleep as the candle finally burns itself out, bathing the dungeon in darkness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He gasps as the wooden shaft of his lance splinters, the heavy blade of the legendary weapon impaling itself in the enemy’s skull as it’s final act. He drops the broken tool in favor of the sword at his belt, but it’s too late, and he knows it. In the time it takes for him to prepare himself, they have surrounded him. His horse lets out a gurgling, panicked cry as its throat is impaled by an enemy poleaxe, and he is thrown. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He hits the dirt hard, and is pulled to his feet just as quickly as he fell; arms held tightly by a faceless, armored grunt of Dolhr. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The dragon steps forward.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Your lance is broken… your sword is lost… surely, you can’t expect to fight me bare-handed?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The knight breathes heavily, adrenaline running thin.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I have… reached my limit, yes.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The dragon smirks, and it’s a toothy, fanged grin. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I graciously accept your surrender, Sir-” The name on the beast’s lips slips through the knight’s brain like mist, heard but not held; gone as soon as it is remembered. The dragon transforms back into a man in a flash of orange light, and the beast turns on his heel, away from his prisoner.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well,” The manakete’s voice is still a hiss, even in this form, “now that that’s done… bring forward the cage, and mount it on the wagon.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The creature’s trailing convoy finally catches up to the small group. The knight is roughly pushed forward, towards the cart at the front. The “cage” is exactly what it’s name implies, a iron-barred box, small enough to prevent even an average sized man from standing within. An animal kennel, fitted for enemy soldiers. Had they constructed this for him specifically, or has this prison held many a criminal in the past?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A rough shove forces him through the door, his forehead smacking against the low bar of the entrance and making his eyesight waiver and swim. They crush his legs in after him and slam the door, padlocking it twice. The box is even smaller from the inside. The knight is a tall man… a very tall man. The cage would have been uncomfortable for even a child. He hugs his knees to his chest as the cart lurches forward-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The nameless man’s eyes open in panic. The box remains around him… perhaps slightly larger than it was in the nightmare, but still ever so oppressive. He scrambles to his feet, backing into the far wall in a hazy stupor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>First comes the box. After the box comes the interrogation. After the interrogation comes the knives and the needles and the whips and-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s been here before. Perhaps not the same prison cell, but he’s lived this nightmare in the past. His brain, unable to present him with even his own </span>
  <em>
    <span>name</span>
  </em>
  <span>, holds fast to the memory of the blood and pain and </span>
  <em>
    <span>danger</span>
  </em>
  <span>…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grasps at the bars of the cell, shaking them. They do not budge, heavy iron that they are. There’s a whine coming from somewhere nearby, and as he assaults the next bar, and then the next, he comes to realize that the source of the noise is his own throat, dry as sandpaper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His shuffling wakes the guard, who mumbles something incoherent as he strikes a match, lighting another candle. The shadows of the bars loom over the stranger now, and he sinks to the floor, unable to keep his footing as his knees shake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’re you doing over there…” The guard mumbles, but the stranger cannot find his voice. He’s still whining; he can hear it, even if he cannot control it. The guard appears on the other side of the bars, face obscured by shadow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>First comes the box, then comes-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s next question is unheard. The whining stops, not from a lapse in panic, but due to a lack of air. The stranger’s breaths come quick and shallow now. The candle flickers, and the shadows dance across the small space, closing in inch by inch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guard is gone now, stepping away. The stranger hears a door creak open, before shutting again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No questions. No knives. No whips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hisses through his teeth, carefully daring to let the air escape from panicked lungs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bars have stopped their approach. They are close, uncomfortably close, but they move forward no further. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath, one marred by the dryness of his throat and the twitching of his muscles. His stomach lurches and his heart pounds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sits stock still for what feels like forever, waiting for his body to calm. He’s almost convinced himself that everything is alright when the door creaks open again. The guard reappears with keys in hand. The opening of the cell forces the bars back where they belong, and suddenly, the room is small, but not crushing. It’s a tight space, but not a cage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What…” The stranger’s voice cracks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guard pockets the keys and gestures for the stranger to stand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s someone who would like to meet you. Come with me.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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